


A Little Self-Knowledge

by Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)



Series: Nancy Drew: 21st Century Girl [1]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: College, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/pseuds/Gray%20Cardinal
Summary: Eloise Drew grinned.  “You’re right, of course; the ‘idle rich girl’ life doesn’t suit either one of us.  But you haven’t exactly been idle – and you don’t need a degree to sleuth.  So why college now, Nancy?”





	A Little Self-Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).



> _Nancy and Eloise Drew were created by the Stratemeyer Syndicate. I have tried to keep the tone of this story more or less in line with the classic yellow-spine adventures, but for narrative purposes the story should be considered as taking place in the present day (which is to say, the early 21st century). Note that while some of the institutions mentioned actually exist, others are products of the writer’s imagination. Also, the details of Nancy’s family background as mentioned here are entirely my own invention._

Eloise Drew paused, her fork hovering over a crisp salad of summer greens, expertly diced tomatoes, and a liberal portion of miniature shrimp dressed in a light vinaigrette.  “I’d be delighted to help you vet colleges, my dear,” she told her niece.  “But before we start making reservations, there are a few things I think we ought to discuss.”

Nancy sipped, set down her glass of lemonade, and took a moment to glance around the dining room of the secluded seafood restaurant in New York’s outer West Village.  “Such as?”

“For one thing, why now?” Eloise asked.  “Going by the usual admissions cycle, it’s much too late for you to start this fall.  We’d be looking at getting you in next September rather than six weeks or so from today, and you’ve been doing perfectly well for yourself in the two years you’ve been out of high school.”

“Yes, well, but I feel like I’ve been…coasting,” Nancy said.  “I mean, I like traveling, and I’m glad I’ve been able to help solve all those mysteries, but it’s not what you’d call focused.  Or a solid career path.”

Eloise regarded her with an amused expression.  “My dear girl, who says you need a career path?  You know very well that between your mother’s trust and your share of the Drew investments, you could spend the rest of your life sunning yourself on every beach from the south of Australia to the south of France to the south of Argentina if you chose.  Or skiing in the Alps, the Rockies, and the Himalayas twice a year apiece, if you’d rather,” she added.

“Being bored out of my mind, you mean,” Nancy retorted.  “Besides, by that logic, you should have spent the last twenty years lounging by swimming pools admiring the scenery instead of teaching high school English – but here you are.”

Eloise merely grinned.  “Here I am – in midtown Manhattan, where I can teach by day, take in the world’s best theater by night, dine out as often as I please, and go home to an apartment with enough space to take in visiting relatives when the need arises.”  She paused.  “You’re right, of course; the ‘idle rich girl’ life doesn’t suit either one of us.  But you haven’t exactly been idle.  You’ve been immensely helpful to a great many people these last two years.  That’s at least a kind of career in itself – and you don’t need a degree to sleuth.  So why college now, Nancy?”

The younger woman made a dismissive gesture.  “A degree to sleuth, maybe not. But to sleuth _well_ , there’s a lot I ought to learn.  Forensic science, languages, psychology – and that’s just a start.”

Eloise regarded her niece thoughtfully.  “You have been thinking this through, but where are you going with it?  I can’t see you taking up traditional police work or following Carson into law school.”

“Absolutely not,” Nancy agreed.  “And I’d just hate ordinary P.I. work.  But the right kind of federal investigations, or high-level insurance fraud, or cold-case consulting – a first-class education will open a lot of those doors.”

“It assuredly will.  And yet,” Eloise said, “that isn’t the whole story, is it?  You’ve had the detecting bug all your life, and you know your own strengths perfectly well.  If you’d wanted, you could be halfway to opening those doors by now.”  She met Nancy’s gaze steadily, but her tone was gentle.  “Let’s have it.  What haven’t you been telling us?”

Nancy was silent for a long moment.  “If I’d gone right out of high school,” she said at last, “it would have been to Emerson, with Ned.  And – I could tell where that would lead.”

Eloise nodded.  “A degree in something safe – English, classics, fine art.  He’d be the one in law school; you’d be typing his notes, most likely nursing a little one.”  She eyed her niece critically.  “You were never really in love with him, were you?”

“No,” Nancy admitted.  “Good friends, absolutely.  Maybe even still.  But we never _sparkled_ , not the way Dad did with Mom.  Even as small as I was, that I remember.”

“So do I,” said Eloise, her own eyes misting a little.  “That was a love-match if ever there was one.  Which was no doubt why neither Katherine’s parents nor ours made a serious fuss when your parents moved to River Heights, not to mention why he’s never remarried.  But I’m getting off-track, aren’t I?  You say you and Ned never sparkled; should I infer an instance of sparkling with someone else?”

“Not exactly,” Nancy said, flushing slightly.  She took a bite of parmesan-dusted crab, swallowed, and continued.  “It was more of a _tingle_ than a sparkle, really – definitely more of a connection than I ever had with Ned, but not on anything like the Mom-and-Dad level.”

One of Eloise’s eyebrows crooked upward.  “A certain amount of _tingling_ ,” she said mildly, “is only to be expected in the course of a life well lived.  I do trust, however, that due care was – and/or will be – taken to forestall any inappropriate consequences.”

Nancy’s face twitched between chagrin and amusement.  “Of course.”

“Excellent,” said Eloise briskly, “in which case let’s file that under things _not_ to mention to Carson, and move on.  You realize, I imagine, that with the combination of your academic record and your public reputation, almost no college in the country – if not the world – will turn down your application. Provided you frame it properly, at least.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Nancy said, slowly.  “I admit I hadn’t looked at it quite that way.”

“Which means, of course,” Eloise went on, “that if you like, you’ve the pick of the Ivy League – Yale, Harvard, and so on.  So why do I think that’s not where your radar is focused?”

Nancy’s smile came back.  “Because you’ve met me.  And it’s not.  Or mostly not,” she amended.  “Columbia’s on my shortlist, for having a lot of the right programs _and_ being in New York.  Everyplace else is way smaller.”  She produced a small notebook from her purse and passed it to her aunt.

Eloise flipped it open and eyed the page of names.  “Very respectable – mostly, at least.  A few of these I don’t recognize – Bullard, for one.  And Colter?”

“Bullard’s right on the Washington coast – really little, but the faculty’s supposed to be excellent, especially in sciences.  Colter’s just outside of Denver; they’ve got good marks for European studies and art history.  And a private ski lodge,” Nancy added, her eyes twinkling.

Eloise chuckled.  “I’m sure you’ll weight that appropriately.  Now I _have_ heard of Meyerdahl University,” she said, “though I warn you the review is mixed.  They’re evidently first-rate for language and cultural studies, but from what I was told, it may not be coincidence that the campus is almost next door to Langley.  Which I suppose might be a plus if one were looking for a CIA career….”

“I’d heard that, too,” Nancy told her, “but I want a first-hand look before I write them off.  A straight-out spy school isn’t for me – but intelligence nowadays has a lot of other elements, and if the program’s good enough, well, we’ll see.”

“And if it’s not,” Eloise observed, “I like what I’ve heard about Lewis & Clark.  I’ve had a few students go there, and didn’t one of Carson’s protégés graduate from their law school?”

“Rowan McAllister,” Nancy said at once.  “She pointed me there and at Carleton, where she got her bachelor’s.”

“Both good suggestions,” said Eloise.  “You’ve made a solid list.  If I may, though – there are two names I do not see.  Why not Whitman rather than Bullard, in Washington?  Two of my best students are there now, and I’d rate them higher academically.”

A flush crossed Nancy’s face.  “That’s – personal,” she said.  “I’ve told you about crossing paths with Frank and Joe Hardy, haven’t I?”

Eloise nodded.  “Three or four different cases, as I recall.  But you’ve said you parted on even terms…”  She paused, giving her niece a considering look.  “Surely having one or both of them as classmates would be a plus, not a distraction.”

“It might,” Nancy admitted, “if that were the only factor.  But their Aunt Gertrude is on Whitman’s alumni board – and she likes to visit the campus.  Often.”

“Ah,” said Eloise.  “One of _those_ aunts, I gather.  I’ve encountered the type, though I trust I’ve never personified it.  In that case, I understand completely.”

There were a few moments of silence as both women briefly turned their attention to their meals.  Nancy was the first to break it.  “And the other school?” she asked softly.

Eloise’s voice was equally gentle.  “Bryn Mawr, of course.  You know they’d be positively ecstatic to have you, and not just because you’d be a double legacy.  And obviously I’d be delighted on my own nickel.  But...”

“…I’d be walking in Mom’s shadow.”  Nancy’s voice was little more than a whisper.  “Maybe if her parents hadn’t endowed that chair.  I just couldn’t take classes from the Katherine Wainwright Drew Professor of Literature.  And asking Dad to come back there to visit, and watch me graduate – he’d come, of course, but I won’t put him through that, not after this long.”

“I understand,” said Eloise, reaching across the table to rest a hand on Nancy’s arm.  “I might make a different choice, but I can’t argue with yours.”

Nancy nodded gratefully, polished off the last bite of her entrée, and reclaimed her notebook.  “Well, then,” she said, “about those reservations….”

# # #


End file.
